Shrouded Fates
by The Silverblood Writer
Summary: Azalea Sunfire never asked to be the Dragonborn, and at this rate, her destiny points her to a much darker path. When a thief offers her a second chance, Azalea is caught up in a tale of murder, conspiracy, and destiny, leading her to defy the Gods themselves...
1. Prologue: A Short Note on Fate

**Disclaimer thingy: I don't own Skyrim, or any of the in-game characters. I only own Azalea.**

Fate. I can't say I've ever heard two people agree on the prospect of "fate." I've heard some say that our fates are chosen, that everything from the moment of our birth to the moment of our death is scripted by the Divines. I've heard that fate is like a river; you can throw a stone into the flow of time and cause it to ripple, but in the end, it won't redirect the river. I've heard of changing your fate. I've heard of writing your own destiny. I've even heard that fate doesn't exist at all.

Whatever the case, fate had not been kind to me. My name is Azalea Sunfire, and my path has been one of shadow from the moment I was born to this moment now. This is the moment I die.

I'm lying on the floor of a ruin. The floor is hard and cold, typical of Nordic architecture. I can't move, can't speak, can't scream or cry for help. Can't curse out my betrayer. I can only pray to the Divines, and hope that there's some corner of the Void that I can take solace in during death.

The arrow is lodged in my shoulder, poison from its tip seeping into my bloodstream. The arrow is the least of my concerns. I can feel the wound in my side, my blood slowly seeping out of the gash in a warm, sticky waterfall. Even now, as I think these last thoughts, I'm getting dizzy. The world is fading away, and it's taking me along with it.

As the tomb fades from existence, I feel one last spark of victory. With my death, the Traitor has no hope of living. He'll die, just like everyone else, in a blaze of hellfire from Oblivion itself. Alduin will destroy him. He will destroy all of them. In killing me, he had destroyed the world.

I can't see anything anymore. The world is dark, swallowing me in a cloud of inky black. Death wasn't so bad. I welcome it, welcome the Void, where I will inevitably go when I perish. So much for love, and hope, and joy. I guess I never really had anything to live for. Not since I was a girl, and the horrors of the world hadn't closed in on me yet.

I guess that there was one thing I still loved in life. I can hear his voice, his laughter, his warm hands holding my own. And suddenly, remembering him, I don't want to die. I don't want the Void to take me yet. If there is still something in life worth living for, I wasn't going to lose it. But it's too late for me. And I find myself struggling to breathe, to do anything, before I lose what little consciousness I had before.

**One year earlier…**

_Made it to Riften today. Some guards tried to get me to pay them to let me in. Obviously a ruse. Got in for free. Obviously. I'm staying in the inn, the Bee and Barb. It's nice enough in here, but I got some sidelong glances from the locals. It's warranted, because the majority of my items don't really belong to me… but a girl's gotta do what she needs to survive, even if it means that a thousand stolen septims find their home in my pocket. Honestly, I can't believe that no one has taken suspicion… although the red-haired merchant seemed to be eyeing me. Probably because I downed three bottles of mead without flinching in front of him._

With a somewhat sad sigh, I closed my journal and placed it in my bag. I thought that making it to Riften would help my situation, and while I'd gotten some more coin in my pocket, I still wasn't able to withdraw from my… personal habits of robbery and pickpocketing. Yes, it helped my situation and yes, I was a bit wealthier than I deserved, but I didn't want to spend my life pinching amethysts off of rich people. If there was a job that fit the description (which there most certainly was not. I mean, why would anyone be paid for thievery?) I would sign up in a heartbeat. But there was no such job, and for now, I wandered the streets of Riften, ready to relieve people of any excess riches.

There's a tiny nagging voice in the corner of my mind. _You aren't here for work, Zale. You're here to avoid the mountain._

I ignore it. I don't need to go to the damn mountain to complete my destiny. The Greybeards could wait. I wasn't about to sell my life to some monks who seemed to think I could magically scream my way out of any situation.

I could try to fall asleep again. But in my mind, I know that it will be the same. I'll put my head down and shut my eyes, and I'll just see the same thing. Ebony wings. Eyes red with bloodlust. Teeth sharp as daggers and three times as deadly. The dragon from Helgen. Alduin.

The moon is slowly sinking. I give up on sleep, and instead force myself to walk to the Shrine of Talos. I take a mountain flower out of my bag and place it solemnly in front of the shrine, offering my prayers to the Ninth Divine. By the time I'm finished, the sun is starting to rise, and the marketplace has come to life.

There are vendors about, each of them trying to sell their products. An argonian jeweler, a dunmer pawnbroker, a red-haired nord who looks like he's selling potions. There's a few others, but these three really stand out. Probably because they have the most valuable items.

Which, admittedly, isn't the best trait to have, but to me, it's the most important for survival. Anyone can be bought off if you try hard enough, except perhaps the Thalmor and the dragons. And when it comes down to it, one of them is an inhumane breed of killers who seek nothing but to further their own power and crush any who oppose them, and the other is a lizard with wings. Kind of difficult to buy, even with all the septims in the world.

I wonder if the Thalmor ban our currency next, because it has the name "Septim" in it, and Tiber Septim became Talos.

But I digress. I need to get to work. Moving quietly and quickly, I nick some of the Argonian's jewelry and move towards the nord. I don't think he sees me. He's too intent on selling some sort of elixir, which is almost certainly fake. I pretend to listen to him, barely hiding my laughter. People really bought this ruse?

The group of people around him cleared out, leaving only me and the man. He was the one eyeing me last night. I slip away, behind his stall, where hopefully he can't see me. Something about him made me uneasy. He wasn't just a merchant.

A voice interrupts my thoughts. "Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, eh lass?" He doesn't even turn around, but the question was obviously directed at me.

I casually lean against the wall, pretending to inspect a ruby. "I'm sorry, what?"

He turned so I could see his face. "I'm saying you've got the coin, but you didn't earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "How could you possibly know that?"

"It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they're wearing. It's a dead giveaway."

I glance down at my outfit. My Stormcloak cuirass I'd gotten from Helgen was long gone, and was replaced with a scaled substitute, that may or may not have been bought with stolen money. I looked back up at him. "My wealth is none of your business."

He smirked. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth is my business. Maybe you'd like a taste?"

I won't lie, I'm intrigued. Maybe I can humor him, for now. "What do you have in mind?"

"I've got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well-paid."

I'll start by saying that I'm not an errand girl. But his tone of voice… he wasn't talking about me simply retrieving ten fire salts for him, or some other nonsense like that.

"What do I have to do?"

"Simple... I'm going to cause a distraction and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from a strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing."

Put the ring… in someone else's pocket… I won't lie, I'm more of a steal everything and keep it for myself person. But if I'm getting paid, it might just be worth it. Still, I don't know why I'm doing this. I have to ask. "Why plant the ring on Brand-Shei?"

"There's someone that wants to see him put out of business permanently. That's all you need to know. Now, you tell me when you're ready and we'll get started."

I swear, I've got a million questions. But in my experience, I get the job done first, ask the questions second. Life is too short to ask about every little detail. Besides, this man doesn't seem like the type of person who wants his time wasted.

"I'm ready. Let's get this started."

I walk over near Madesi's stall and pretend to busy myself with his jewelry. The man began babbling about some sort of falmerblood elixir.

Even the guards are looking away. Good. I crouch down and fiddle with the sliding door, which unlocks rather easily. The strongbox is a bit more difficult. I end up breaking a pick and making a loud sound, but I don't think anyone notices. With the second, I'm in. There's a large coin purse and a ring in the box. I take both. One can never be too careful. Ring in hand, I sneak over to Brand-Shei. He's sitting on some crates, back turned to me. Almost too easy.

Ring in hand, I slowly slide it over to him. My fingers are almost inr each. Slowly, I maneuver the ring from the palm of my hand into my fingers, and then, ever so carefully, into his pocket. I step back and nod to the man- Brynjolf, someone called him, and he ends his ruse and walks over to me. He's smiling, which is good. If I had messed that up, it would have been disastrous.

Well, if this wasn't intriguing. "What's been going on?"

"Bah. My organization's been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that's just how it goes. But never mind that, you did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there's more where that came from... if you think you can handle it."

I mean… if there's anything I'm good at, it's breaking the law. And if I'm being paid to do that, I don't really see what there is to lose. Not to mention Brynjolf and his accent was a bit of a deal sweetener.

I mentally kick myself. I wasn't going to allow myself to fall victim to any feelings for anyone just yet. I'd only just met the man, and I have a policy: trust no one but yourself. In my experience, having others to drag me down is synonymous with weakness. I can't hesitate because someone I care about is on the receiving end of a blade, so I choose not to care at all. It might not be the best emotionally, but it's how I've survived for so long.

"I can handle it."

Brynjolf grinned. "All right, then. Let's put that to the test. The group I represent has its home in the Ratway beneath Riften... a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece and we'll see if you've really got what it takes."

I don't know what I'm going to face, but I know that it's better than what's going on right now. After all, what's the worst that can happen?

**And that's the first chapter of my first** **Skyrim fanfic! This Dragonborn, Azalea, is one of three who I will potentially write about. I might mention the other two on this story- warrior Anduial Goldenblade and mage Brienna Stormlight, but they'll be side characters. Azalea (my favorite) is the focus. More about her physical appearance in the next chapter, when I shift viewpoints to Bryn.**

**Let me know if you liked it by leaving a review, and constructive criticism is appreciated (just don't flame me please!) I'll update again soon!**

**~Silver**


	2. Introductions

**Well, not much activity on the last chapter, but that is expected of an Elder Scrolls story with only one chapter. I'll be honest here, I would skim over it myself. But enough about that. Chapter two!**

-]I[-

Brynjolf had always had a certain penchant for sizing up his marks. The new lass, Azalea, has proven herself worthy. Something about her was… off, however. For starters, the scarnarring her face, reaching from her cheek to her jaw in three perfectly straight lines. It had healed, but she was still young. Meaning that, at some point in her youth, something had done that to her, and she was still walking. Resilience could be helpful for an aspiring thief, but that didn't change the fact that this woman had an interesting past.

Her hair was the same shade as his, a deep crimson red. She kept it pushed back behind her ears with braids, allowing it to waterfall down her back. Maybe having another redhead in the Guild would stop Delvin from mocking him.

But it wasn't her hair, her scar, or even her skull in thievery that caught his attention. It was her eyes. He'd heard the description "eyes like a flame before," but if their eyes were flames, Azalea's were wildfires, hungry to consume everything in their gaze. They looked like tiny infernos trapped behind emerald glass. Something about them wasn't quite right… wasn't quite _human. _There was more to Azalea Sunfire than he could perceive.

Bryn walked over to the graveyard, using the secret entrance into the Cistern. He was greeted with the usual rabble: a few of them arguing over septims, arrows flying through the air, Rune wondering aloud where in the world Etienne had run off to. Mercer looked ready to kill someone, trying his hardest to focus on the Goldenglow job.

Bryn walked over to Mercer. "I think I've found someone, boss. A nord lass who proved herself in the market. It seems risky, I know. But something is different about this one."

"Brynjolf, are you seriously trying this again? The last time you tried this, they reported you to the guards. You're lucky Maven was able to get you out of that rut."

"Mercer, she's the one, I can promise you that. There was something about her. Something in her eyes. I know she'll be the one who helps the Guild."

Mercer was about to respond when a loud clattering noise came from the secret entrance. Vex came stumbling in, soaking wet, covered in mud, and her hair doing anything but complying. The expression on her face was one of utmost disgust and fury

"Goldenglow? Not going to happen. Too many mercenaries. Not enough space to sneak around. The only reason I'm still _alive_ was because I was able to use the damned sewer to sneak away from the entrance." She stormed off towards the Flagon. "I'm getting a drink. And if any of you say a word, I won't hesitate to cut off your hands!"

"Vex is in quite the mood, isn't she?" muttered Rune to Vipir. "Almost as sour as you were when you ran from Windhelm to Riften."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about that, you ass. Besides, we've had a rough week. First Etienne disappears, now Vex can't get into Goldenglow? Hopefully whoever Bryn brought in is going to make it a little bit better."

Niruin chimed in. "Brynjolf usually can tell when someone is going to help us out, but at the rate we're going, I'm fairly confident that this week isn't going to brighten up. Maybe Delvin is right, and we are cursed in some way."

"Don't you three have better things to be doing?" Mercer asked with a disapproving tone. "We aren't cursed, but this situation won't improve if you're slacking off."

"Ah, go easy on the lads, Mercer. After all, they have a point. We could really use some sort of compensation for all of this."

"Brynjolf, you better not disappoint me."

"Don't worry. I'll turn this whole organization around. Now, I'm off to the tavern. I could use some mead."

"Yes, yes, do what you will."

Brynjolf made his way into the Flagon and closed the storage cabinet behind him. He took a seat next to Delvin at the bar and began speaking with him.

"So, you really think you've got someone this time?" Delvin asked, clearly skeptical.

"Aye, that's right. Soon, we'll return to the good old days of filling our pockets with so much coin, we won't have enough room in the vault to keep it all."

Vekel sighed. "Give it up, Brynjolf... those days are over."

"I'm telling you, this one is different..."

Dirge shook his head, looking sadly at Brynjolf. "We've all heard that one before, Bryn! Quit kidding yourself."

Vekel nodded in agreement. "It's time to face the truth, old friend. You, Vex, Mercer... you're all part of a dying breed. Things are changing!"

The conversation was interrupted by a loud slamming of a door, and an exhausted looking woman came stumbling in, covered in cuts and bruises, grinning like a madwoman. Her red hair was in a state to rival Vex's, and she was putting her bow on her back. Azalea.

"Dying breed, eh? Well what do you call that then!" He turned to face Azalea, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, well... color me impressed, lass. I wasn't certain I'd ever see you again!"

Azalea smirked, wiping her slightly bloodied lip with the back of her hand. "Getting here was easy."

Brynjolf's grin widened. "Reliable and headstrong? You're turning out to be quite the prize! So... now that I've whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?"

Azalea's fingers twitched towards her bow. "Deadbeats? What'd they do?"

"They owe our organization some serious coin and they've decided not to pay. I want you to explain to them the error of their ways."

Azalea's hand moved away from her weapon. "Sounds good. Who are they?"

"Keerava, Bersi Honey-Hand and Haelga. Do this right, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization."

The notion seemed to make Azalea happy. She smiled, for real this time, not her trademarked arrogant smirk or a slightly mad grin. Genuine happiness. "So, how did you want me to handle it?"

"Honestly, the debt is secondary here. What's more important is that you get the message across that we aren't to be ignored. A word of warning though... I don't want any of them killed. Bad for business."

Azalea looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, didn't know. I'll do my best to forget the fact that I carry a bow at all. Anyway, will I get a cut?"

Brynjolf scoffed. "Of course you'll get a cut. We take care of our own. Now if you need any details on your marks, I'll be here. Get going."

"You have details on my marks? Any help with Bersi?"

Brynjolf laughed slightly. "He's as pig-headed a man as you'll ever find. The key is that ugly dwarven urn in his shop. Smash that thing to bits and he'll change his attitude."

"What's Haelga's story?"

"Haelga is a devout follow of the Dibella and dotes over the statue to the Divine that she keeps at the Bunkhouse. Use it as leverage and she'll cave."

Azalea nodded in understanding. "Dibella is overrated anyway. Any tips about Keerava?

"Keerava's stubborn, but she's got a soft spot for family. Talk to Talen-Jei at the Bee and Barb and see if you can get something out of him. They're... well acquainted if you catch my meaning."

Azalea nodded. "Interesting. Never would have guessed that some merchant knew all the dirt on everyone here."

"If you couldn't tell, I'm no merchant. Now, get going."

-]I[-

**Chapter two. More boring dialogue. I need some sort of introduction, don't I? Anyway, this seems like a novelization of the Thieves Guild. It's not, I'll promise you that. There will be a fair few deviations from the storyline to make it more… interesting. Also, I'm going to start referencing the Dark Brotherhood soon, which Azalea also joined, later on in the game. Actually, I joined it during the "Taking Care of Business" quest when I was wandering around Riften and exploring.**

**The next chapter for a story published will be **_**Paths, **_**so check that out in the Legend of Zelda section.**

**~Silver**


	3. Innocence Lost

**Hey everyone! This story hasn't been updated in a bit, so here's a new chapter. I've been focused on my other stories, but I'm back to this one now. **

-=]I[=-

Getting through The Ratway was a nightmare. I almost died several times. Of course, I'd been closer to death before. A couple of thugs were nothing. So when I made it into the Flagon I simply grinned and said that arriving was easy. I'm not normally arrogant, but I wasn't going to make myself seem weak. Brynjolf seemed to appreciate that, and before I knew it, I was on a mission for him again.

My task: collect debts from a few Riften merchants. Simple enough. It should have only taken a few minutes.

Unfortunately, I've always had a habit of getting sidetracked. I was looking for the shops I was supposed to be "collecting" from, when one particular building caught my eye. A rusted sign over it read _Honorhall Orphanage. _I spend a minute staring at the sign, caught up in my own thoughts. I've always felt sorry for orphans, and children in households that are… not ideal. I don't like to elaborate, but my childhood was messed up. In a perfect world, children would be happy with their parents. Of course, this world is far from perfect.

"Thinking of adoption? Not going to happen. The hag who runs the place hasn't allowed it since Aventus Aretino ran off," commented a blonde woman. I had heard of her- Mjoll the Lioness. Apparently dedicated to eradicating the Thieves Guild. Hopefully she never found out about the mission I was currently on… I might be a skilled archer, but against a skilled warrior at close range, I had about as much chance as a rabbit does against a bear.

Something about her comment intrigued me. The "old hag" part, in particular. This is the perfect start to some sort of novel about escaping an evil orphanage and being adopted by a nice, loving family, blah blah happily ever after.

Life doesn't give out happily ever afters. I intend to change that… by whatever means necessary.

I know I'm running late, and that Brynjolf would be angry if I took terribly long. But I don't want to be one to stand idly by, especially when there are kids involved.

Look, I might be a cynical, arrogant, mistrustful, and mildly sociopathic person, but even _I _have morals. So I push the door to the orphanage open and creep inside.

I won't elaborate on what I heard inside. I was very displeased, to say the least. However, what really set me off was what I found behind a closed door. A rusted pair of shackles. Child sized shackles.

Quite a bit of time has already passed. I have a job to do. I have a damned job to do. I am collecting money from some merchants. But I already know that I'm not heading back to the Flagon immediately. My sights are set on Windhelm. It was a short enough walk, but a quicker ride. Naturally, I stole a horse.

Hey, I already know that theft is bad. I honestly couldn't care less. I looked evil in the eyes. Held the cruel, blood-red gaze as fire rained down around me. If there is true evil in the world, it isn't in the form of a thief. It's in the from of a dragon, with wings blacker than ebony, teeth sharp as daggers, and a voice powerful enough to level a town. Alduin.

I think I started my journey around midday. It's not yet dark when I arrive in Windhelm. By inquiring the locals, I find myself standing in front of my destination- the Aretino residence. Some kid is trying to go inside, and an older woman, presumably his mother, does her best to restrain him. Crouching out of their line of sight, I pull out a lockpick and easily crack the lock. The pick is still unbroken, so I carefully place it back into my bag. I have a fair few picks, but every one of them can be more valuable than gold in a pinch.

I hear a faint chanting coming from upstairs. The words are unintelligible, but as I get closer, it becomes easier to hear.

"_Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."_

I hesitate. That chant… it's the Black Sacrament. I don't know much about it, but what I do know is that it's bad… and involves a human corpse.

Well, I came here to accomplish a task. Might as well get it done.

He doesn't notice me yet, so I clear my throat. He jumps slightly, then turns around. When he saw that it wasn't some guard, but rather, me, who was standing in the doorway, his face broke into a wide grin.

"It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the... the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood."

I'm a bit flustered. I knew the sacrament was for the Brotherhood, but I never expected to be mistaken for an assassin. "Yes, of course… the Black Sacrament…"

He's happy. Very happy. A bit concerning, for a child to be so thrilled to have a killer in the same room as him. "It took so long. So very long. But now that you're here, you can accept my contract."

I break character. Of course, I don't know everything about the Dark Brotherhood. "Contract?" I do my best to act like an assassin would, kind of stoic and serious. I can't really help it, though. I won't pretend to understand something I know nothing about.

"My mother, she... she died. I... I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

His story is heart-wrenching, but I'm playing the part of an assassin. I can't afford any sentiment right now, no matter how much I want to. I merely nod and turn to head outside.

As I'm about to leave, I hear Aventus saying, "Please hurry. To be honest, I'm kind of lonely here. As much as I hated getting sent to Honorhall, I really miss my friends there..."

By the time I make it back to Riften, the sun has almost set. Brynjolf would likely be disappointed, but following orders isn't something I do well. Besides, I was never actually given any form of a time constraint, so I'll assume that I'm fine.

The orphanage isn't even locked. Slowly, I push the door open and creep inside. Everyone is asleep. The assistant, the children, and Grelod. I reach for my belt and unsheathe a steel dagger, and quietly make my way over to Grelod's room. I shut the door behind me. I'm not going to expose children to this kind of thing.

I stand over Grelod's bed, my dagger in hand. My guess is that I should keep it clean and keep it quiet. A simple cut to the neck will do.

This is the part in the novels where the heroine has a moral dilemma and eventually refuses to kill someone in cold blood. I'm not part of a novel. In fact, I've killed before. And the worst part?

I'd enjoyed it. The rush of blood, the look of fear in my target's eyes, the final breath. It was exhilarating. And I don't think I'll regret doing it again.

Without hesitation, I slit the throat of Grelod the Kind.

Her death was quick. I don't even think she woke up. My gloves are slightly stained, and my dagger is a mess, so I need to tread carefully. I slip away, and I hear a muffled cheer coming from inside the orphanage. It gradually turns into a celebration, and I smile to myself as I make my escape.

I know it's late. That doesn't stop me from returning to Aventus. He's happy. Again, concerning for a child his age. But it's not really my place to become attached to someone who hired me to kill someone else. Even if he's adorable, and lonely, and reminds me of when I was a girl. I vow to myself that if I ever adopt a child, it will be Aventus Aretino.

I've been gone from the Guild for almost a day. I hope that Brynjolf isn't mad at me, considering that I was given the _simplest freaking task ever. _The money's been in my pocket for a while now, and it's about time I return it.

Making it through the Ratway is much easier this time around; I had lowered the drawbridge previously. By the time I return, I'm practically shaking with exhaustion. I make my way through the tavern, to where Brynjolf is seated. He's talking with someone… I think his name is Delvin. When Brynjolf sees me, he raises his eyebrow.

"High time you returned, lass. What took you?"

I shift around uncomfortably. How am I supposed to tell him that I _killed _someone? That was the _one thing _I was told not to do. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't willing to allow me into the Guild.

"I had some business in Windhelm I needed to attend to. Don't worry, it's all fixed."

"Business in the Aretino house? You forget, lass, I've got eyes everywhere."

I laugh nervously. "Who knew you were so invested in your recruits' lives? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalking me."

"Enough of that, now. So long as she has the money, we're fine." A woman with very pale hair- almost white in this lighting- spoke up. She was obviously upset about something, but I can't really tell what. Possibly some sort of failed mission?

"Alright, good point, Vex. I suppose that's what's important in the end, eh lass? And from what I've heard, all the marks are still alive. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quite can be quite expensive."

"I can imagine. Here, I've got what they owe us. What's next?"

Brynjolf smiled. "Ready to continue already? From the looks of you, I'd say that you could use a rest. Anyway, you've more than proved yourself. We need more people like you in our outfit."

I smile. "It certainly took me a while to return, but I'm glad you're proud of my work. If there's more gold where that came from, I'm in."

"That's the spirit! Larceny's in your blood... the telltale sign of a practiced thief. I think you'll do more than just fit in around here."

In truth, I am a practiced thief. In fact, I've been doing it since I was twelve. Going from occasionally picking pockets to breaking into houses and selling what I find inside. I don't think Brynjolf wants to hear my whole backstory, so I change the subject. "Before we go, I have to ask…"

"What's on your mind?" Again with the raised eyebrow. If I'm being honest, it's kind of cute. The majority of people who try to raise one eyebrow end up looking like they're being strangled, including my own brother.

"Word is your outfit isn't doing to well. Is… is that true?" I swallow. Looks like I've hit a tough subject.

"We're cursed, and no one will admit it!" Delvin calls from across the room. Brynjolf simply rolls his eyes.

"We've run into a rough patch lately, but it's nothing to be concerned about. Tell you what. You keep making us coin and I'll worry about everything else. Fair enough?"

I give a strained smile, I don't want to join a crumbling guild, but so far, I've been doing well. I suppose it isn't really something I should be worrying about. After all, I'm only a recruit. "Fair enough."

"Good. Now how about following me, and I'll show you what we're all about."

He leads me back behind the bar, then turns towards the storage cabinets. If a ruddy old pantry is the entire Thieves Guild, I might just have to leave. But something is suspicious about one of the cabinets… there isn't anything on the shelves, and the back of the cabinet doesn't look attached to the whole thing. Brynjolf pushes the cabinet open, revealing a small passage to a door. As the door slowly swings open, Brynjolf motions for me to move inside.

There's no going back once I step through this door. Once I made it through, I wouldn't have the chance to leave again. With a deep breath, I carefully step through the door.

It's oficial. I'm a member of the Thieves Guild.

-=]I[=-

**Oh dear, I've killed someone. Actually, I'm basing the timing off of the actual gameplay. I didn't put quest markers on and I wandered into the orphanage… oops. Well, we all know what Grelod's murder means, don't we?**

… **it means that stuff's going to get good in the following chapters! Finally!**

**Special thanks to Dovahkiin Dreaming for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far, and that you like some of my quotes!**

**That's all for now!**

**~Silver**


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